


The Funeral

by mikachan



Category: Black Butler, Kuroshitsuji
Genre: AU, Bittersweet, Depression, Eventual Suicide, Fluff, Fluffy, Letters, M/M, Mental Illness, PTSD, Sad, attempted suicide, ciel is sent away, everythings the same except for that, im so sorry, sebastian POV, sebastian inst a demon, spillingashes, writing letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 05:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5363867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikachan/pseuds/mikachan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I never got to send another letter.</p><p>It was spring.</p><p>And I never really liked funerals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Funeral

It was winter.

I never really liked funerals.

The boy had gone mad when his parents left him. There were no bones left of them to bury, and so they were never put to rest. At first we thought it was normal. The child's grief was understandable... his mourning welcome. The staff only wanted him to resolve the feelings of abandonment burning inside of him. We could all feel his sadness. I could almost taste his fear.

The first night after the fire he didn't sleep. As soon as the lights went out was reduced to a mess of tears and sobs that even I felt deep within my soul. He buried his face in my shoulder, body shaking, hands gripping and teeth biting onto the cotton lapel of my waistcoat. I let him... soothing him with lullabies until finally, he ceased his cries for his mother and closed his eyes in exhaustion.

He hadn't asked me to stay with him that night, but I did nonetheless.

It went on for weeks this way. And then weeks turned to months and those months added up into a year and finally, his tears stopped their steady flow. I came to comfort him on the anniversary of his parents' death, anticipating a sleepless night filled with bruises and bite marks. But instead I found him lying there, eyes already closed.

He didn't ask me to stay with him that night, but I wondered if his sleep was feigned as I shut the door behind me.

No word was spoken about this strange shift in attitude, and I never slept beside him again. There was no need to comfort a person whom didn't welcome affection. And the nights were silent for another three years. The child the manor's walls once knew was gone; replaced with a sad, damaged and heartbroken teen whom was silent except upon occasion when his heart was touched. And his heart was gripped with anger.

And then the night came when I heard the heart-stopping sound of a gun being fired from inside his chamber. I thought that whomever had taken his parent's was back for their heir. I thought that Ciel was angry enough to keep his head... to keep living. It seemed as though hatred was his reason to wake in the morning. I only wanted him to have a reason.

The bullet missed his brain. His aim was poor, and the bullet only took his right eye with it. He was in hospice for three months. We thought he wouldn't make it. His oppressed mental state had surprised even me; the one whom had been closest to him since those flowered walls had burned to ashes. He stopped speaking after that. He wouldn't look me in the eyes.

It was spring.

Ciel Phantomhive was sent away. It had been recommended that he stay in a facility until his heath had returned. No one knew how long that would take. The silence was steadily deafening for the better half of the year. The manor felt so empty without someone inside to give it a name, and it stayed nameless as we received no word about our silenced master.

Then, I received a letter.

Sebastian,  
I hope you are doing well. I'm fine. It's strange... being here. I don't quite know how I feel yet. I'm sorry for withholding my words and biting my tongue. I didn't want the staff to worry. I didn't want you to worry.   
I thought you'd like to know that I am safe. I don't know if I am getting better. I don't know if I will ever be better.  
I miss you. Write to me.  
Ciel

Why he had written me, seemed strange in the least. And why it was not addressed to the entire staff at hand felt like a secret I've been trying to gain for almost five years.

And so I replied.

Dear Ciel Phantomhive,  
I am glad that you are doing well. Please take time and rest. We are here waiting for you. Please trust me when I say that the household is but concerned with your well-being. Any worries you might have had would have been gladly lifted from you. I am much more worried now.  
You will be better with time. All good things come with age. I hope to see you again.  
Stay safe. I miss you, too.  
Your butler,  
Sebastian.

A few months passed before I received the next letter in which I felt a silence stretching between this house and its vacant lord. I felt it almost foolish; the way in which I was so attached to the boy. But I had seen him grow into the young adult he was, and so no one but I thought it strange. But I felt an invisible string binding us that no one else could see... no one else could touch.

I received another letter.

Sebastian,  
I hope to see you as well... soon, perhaps? I trust you. Perhaps my silence says a whole lot more about me than it does about any of you. You all are perfect. It wasn't your fault.  
Do you, or any other staff member know of future plans for me? I am afraid I have hit a dead end with my treatments. Perhaps the doctors have spoken to you?  
Ciel

It went on like this for a year. I had told him that I knew nothing concerning future treatment, and so he dropped the subject as if it were as hot as the embers that ate away at him. He was nearly sixteen when I finally was able to visit him. The men in the white coats had told me he had stabilized. Stabilized from what, I wasn't too sure. He had been in between those walls for at least two years. At that point, I wasn't sure whether it was his depression or the roof over his head that was causing his insanity.

I came in the summer. I came alone. And I came with caution. I remembered how he had been as a child. There used to be this light in his eyes that seemed as if it would never fade. And his smile would spread across his face like wind rustling through branches and it made the most endearing sight. His laugh sounded like wind-chimes on Christmas eve... or like the rolling of waves across a beach made of golden sunlight. I was sad to see that the light had faded, and there was no longer any wind to stir those barren branches.

His hands felt so warm after all these years. But it was not longer the warmth from the sun, but the warmth of a fire that started deep within. And it seemed as though it would never stop until it burst through layers of tendons and bone, even if it burned his skin to ashes. When he wrapped his arms around my neck, I listened to hear the remnants of frozen bells or vacant beaches. But the only thing I could hear were his sobs, and the faint rustling of the trees outside.

I'd never noticed the way he picked at his skin until he was forced to wear that gown and his arms were exposed. I felt my heart seize as I traced those scars with my thumbs. I imagined him, late at night, curled up upon the bathroom floor, his eyes glassy with tears and his nails red with blood. I imagined me, sleeping peacefully in the other room... and I felt as though my chest was hit with thunder.

I stayed for as long as I could. And I never left his side.

"Something's going to change in winter. I can't say much more."

What he meant by that, I was uncertain. But I did know that I never wanted to leave. I wanted to protect the boy as much as possible. He seemed happy enough. He seemed the same as he was before he decided to pull that trigger. And I had not one doubt in my mind that this is exactly what he looked like when he did lift that barrel. I found myself wondering, as well, if he could be saved. But perhaps he didn't need to be.

Fall approached. The day before I left he became urgent, like he was trying to tell me something he couldn't quite grasp. I noticed fresh wounds upon his shoulders.

"What would you do if I asked you to run away with me?"

His lips were so soft.

I left.

Our letters resumed.

Sebastian,  
I miss you terribly, again. I'm glad you came, but now there is something missing from me. I know that something must be you. I don't want to spend another winter alone.  
I feel that there is so much to be said between us that can't quite be told by the tongue. Something feels wrong.  
Please come back soon.  
Ciel

Ciel,  
You don't have to be alone this winter. The whole staff has been planning a Christmas visit. I would never let you freeze.  
You are right. I feel it in my throat and in my gut. Something is tugging at me, and I know that it must come from you. Nothing is wrong.  
I will see you soon.  
Sebastian.

I hoped that he could not smell the fear within my ink.

It was winter.

The snow was thick.

Though we attempted the journey from November through January, the blizzard lasted too long. The carriage's wheels simply would not turn. I missed his seventeenth birthday, and the only holiday that he ever needed me for. I could not send him a letter. I could not reach him with my words nor with my touch. I prayed every night that someone was watching over him... that someone besides me could see that he was breaking. I was breaking.

He told me he understood. He was in that blizzard too, after all. Though his letters became less frequent... more rushed. It was like he was grasping endlessly at a blue sky that was always turning gray. Perhaps it was less of a blizzard of the weather, and more so a blizzard that sped through the heart. I felt my heart freezing. I wanted to go to him. And that is when I realized that I loved him.

In his last letter he wrote,

Sebastian,  
I am leaving. Please do not ever forget how much I will miss you. I will see you again, I am sure of it. Please do not worry. Do not be sad. Do not look for me. I will be okay... and so will you.  
Take care of the manor while I am gone. Take care of it always. Do not be like me. Do not forget how to smile.   
Do not forget me.   
I must go now, for it is getting colder.  
I love you. I am so sorry.  
Goodbye,  
Ciel Phantomhive

I never got to send another letter.

It was spring.

And I never really liked funerals.


End file.
